


It's up to you, New York, New York

by StilesWithAlmostAnyone



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Businessman Derek, Human Derek, Human Derek Hale, I Don't Even Know, Innocent Stiles Stilinski, M/M, New York, New York City, Oral Sex, Out of Character, Poor Stiles Stilinski, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rich Derek, Rich Derek Hale, Rough Sex, Smut, Top Derek, Top Derek Hale, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski, i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-11-15 18:48:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11237031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StilesWithAlmostAnyone/pseuds/StilesWithAlmostAnyone
Summary: Derek Hale lived in New York City as a born human, only holding an Alpha-kind status when it came to his rank at his work-office. When on his way to said job one morning, he happened to bump into Stiles Stilinski. Or, more accurately correct, Stiles Stilinski happened to bump into him. And Stiles would quickly find himself quiet unfortunate for being a constant klutz after that encounter.





	1. Break my stride

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me if my grammar is wrong somewhere in this fanfic, it helps me a lot with my writing. And if you feel that this story could be better in anyway, that is too very helpful to hear!

Derek Hale was a business man, plain and simple. If he was a CEO or president wasn't important (outside the office) when his image told enough; prosperous and loaded. His body structure and face put in the adjectives after 'but' for any too lingering or interested eyes; strong and brutal. Only someone blind, deaf and dumb would come to stop him in his tracks when walking the busy streets of New York, and even they were quick on their feet after just a weak bump of a shoulder. (A graze to Derek's body gave, however, clearly away how muscular he was.)

The space between Derek and the other pedestrians left him with a good enough temper when entering his office in the early and chaotic mornings (which gave his coworkers the privilege of being able to breath slowly for a second, before getting right back into a long, stressful day). The morning seemed to go just as it normally did, Derek walking the streets with hectic steps but no blockage in far sight. Not that he saw how much of space he had at the moment, as he was looking through a bunch of documents and marking things down with a yellow pen. It all however came to a stop when something collided with his back, halting him in his tracks. 

Derek didn't turn around, instead continued to stare down at his documents as the yellow marker had come to smear an ugly line over several paragraphs. 

"M'sorry," a masculine but weak voice muffled into his black suit before the, quiet tiny (Derek however standing at 6 feet), body quickly removed itself from Derek's back. "Sorry, sir. I tripped."

Derek eventually turned around, a glare and cleansing jaw ready to show his spite for the stranger. It switched to flabbergast, eyes high while his mouth fell slightly open when he saw the man in question. He stood at 5 feet and his wide and bright eyes were staring up at Derek. The color of them was hard to tell, but with the brightness of the morning sun (but in Derek's mind, it was a natural characteristic) they twinkled. The man was slim and lean, having Derek feeling peculiar and shocked over how he had the courage to face him. No fear radiated from his eyes or body stand. Just embarrassment of what you could tell by those rosy cheeks and thin fingers scratching his long neck in a nervous manner.

"Sir?" the man's voice was soft but loud. A breeze let Derek inhale his colon, which left his mouth thirsty by the sweet and tricked edibility scent of it.

"What's your name?" Derek asked.

"Stiles, why?" The stranger's eyes squinted at him as if it would give him more information about Derek. His body posture also went more straight and determined.

"Are you perhaps looking for a job, Stiles?" Derek liked the click of his tongue when uttering the 't' in the name and how everything went soft after that letter. Stiles' eyes went back to being wide. "What?"

"You just ruined my documents," ruined may have been a too strong word, but he wanted to make an impact. It seemed to work by how Stiles' Adam's apple oscillated and his plump lips parted. Stiles was acting as if he was the one who'd actually been ruined, slowly decaying in Derek's palms. "I need a secretary asap for this." Derek raised an eyebrow in attempt to act as if he wasn't extracting for a yes. "Or do you want to pay a few hundred bucks?" Again, exaggerations. 

"I'm not qualified to be an secretary for," Stiles flapped his long but thin arms at Derek and his documents, as if he was a bird who was stuck in a net and was trying to escape, "whatever you're working for, sir!" Derek let himself imagine freely how again it was in his hands Stiles was freaking out, the thought leaving the man excited. "Nonsense, you only need to copy shit, remake this, and bring me black coffee." Derek then dragged up the left arm of his suit to look at his watch. "You have one minute to make up your mind, I have a meeting at nine." Eleven, actually, but it would surely take a lot of time to have Derek being left content and proud with his handiwork of this man if he accepted.

"I already have a job. I'm an IT-technician," Stiles' voice and body were clearly quivering. Derek felt a tugging need to swoop him into an embrace - to calm him down with soft and whispering promises of how secretaries in his line of work didn't need to do anything hair pulling (or at least not for him, or at least not Stiles). He kept his distance, though. "Wonderful, then you can help me with other things as well. Your salary is about thirty thousands. Sounds good?"

"That's too much!" Stiles exclaimed and it sure was, but it would be easy to work out. "Or at least for me! Sir, you don't understand. I'm a clutch and I talk too much. You don't,"

"I do, now make up your mind." Stiles looked down with hysterical eyes and swiped one of his hands up to his mouth, beginning to bite on the thumb to gnaw of a small piece of it's nail. Derek, however, reached out and gently grasped his hand, having him again looking up at him in shock. "No nails will be eaten in this line of job." He pulled Stiles' supine hand up closer to inspect it, finding not only the nails but the skin around them ruined. "Which your job at the moment seem to need." Stiles quickly dragged his hand back to his chest and stared daggers at Derek. "How do I know this isn't some kind of sick joke, weird kidnapping or robbery?"

"Here," Derek answered with as he reached into one of his suit's inner pockets. His hand then came out with a small piece of paper, which he gave to Stiles. "My business card. Give that information to anyone you trust if you feel a must for it."

"This doesn't need to be yours."

"Stiles, you're the one who walked into me."

The red shade started to rise on the man's pale face again. "Well, maybe I'm my ordinary, unlucky self and happened to bump into a sociopath today."

"Then let me call a cab, and I'll give him the address on that card," Derek raised an arm and took some steps towards the road to signal any passing taxi, his other arm by the side of Stiles to make him follow with, "and I'll get us into the building and my office. Do you think you can trust me by then?"

"Your name is Derek Hale?"

"It's all on the card. Taxi!" Stiles flinched when a yellow and black car screeched to a halt beside them. Derek told the driver the exact address before opening the closest backdoor and making a gesture between it and Stiles. "Don't you want to be adventurous, Stiles?" his voice was low and promising,

"Are you Peter Pan, but in the business criteria?" Stiles couldn't help but joke while scratching the back of his head. Derek only stared at him and eventually, Stiles entered the vehicle.

 

The road was smocked with cars, but the traffic was moving. Not quick enough for either passenger, but in enough speed that normal pedestrians like Stiles diminished for the young man's eyes. He was for once more captivated by the skyscrapers for their greatness and quantity, him never before having had the time to really examine them. 

"How old are you?" Stiles turned away from his window and came to be very close to Derek's face, the man seemingly leaning into his side of the backseat. Stiles quickly pressed himself close to his door and began to wonder why Derek didn't go shotgun. The street was well known for it's expensive shops and high scrape buildings, but it seemed to still be hard to find for the driver. Probably because most people for that area went by their own fancy cars or limousines, never by a dirty and suffocating cigarette smelly taxi. Derek, however...

"Don't you have a billion dollars car to take you to your job, instead of walking like ordinary people?" Stiles responded.

"In this kind of traffic?"

"Well, we're going by car now, ain't we?"

"Why, would you've agreed to follow me by foot, being so close to several dangerous byways?" Stiles looked down in somewhat defeat, but his mouth continued on, "Well, shouldn't someone as heavy pocketed as you think of that as well?"

Derek huffed at that. "Do I look fragile?"

"Do I?" Stiles then glared at the man when he only raised one of his bushy eyebrows in response. "Well, what if an even buffer fella tried to rob ya?"

"What if someone tried to rob you?"

"Do I look like someone who can afford an expensive car or even going by taxi everyday?" he spat back. Derek wasn't faced by it, though, as he hummed, "Well, soon you will."

Stiles shook his head and looked out of the window again. "I haven't agreed to anything."

"Then why are you here?" Stiles' neck hair rose by the warm breath brushing through it. He didn't dare to turn around or chastise the man again when the question already had him at a low point. He instead cleared his throat and said, "Adventurous." 

"How old are you, Stiles?"

"Why d'you wanna know?"

"Well, you look quiet young." Stiles eventually let his eyes wander a little in Derek's direction, but they froze when they caught the driver's curious ones in the rear view mirror. The uninvited look was starting to move back to the road, but then Stiles felt a soft touch to one of his legs and the eyes were back. "Could perhaps pass for seventeen, but please tell me you're not." The eyes were then completely gone and all Stiles could see was a forehead, but his eyes continued to stare at the mirror. "Stiles?"

"Nineteen."

"Almost too young." Stiles finally came out of his trance and turned his head fully to have him caught in another pair of eyes. These ones had an interest in them as well, but Stiles didn't feel shocked this time about it. The touch and voice had already prepared him and even dragged him into it. "I must say even confusing, because why would a nineteen year old say no to such an easy and well paying job?"

"I may be nineteen, but I'm not stupid to think that all of this have no consequences." Stiles could tell that Derek's eyes had a glint of green in them, but what was most sight full was the sharpness of them. Not only his eyes' structure (the carunculas especially had him think of animalistic eyes, being razor cutting at the ends), but the pupils were acute. 

"Doesn't need to be consequences. I'll fix everything to be for your pleasing." 

"Are you trying to seduce me?"

Derek's hand on his leg reared back a little, as if he'd been stung. Stiles hadn't touched it or dared to move his lower body an inch, though. "What?" Derek asked and a flush could be seen on his throat, having Stiles childishly theorising it was what had clogged up the man's throat to make the spoken word come out in a struggle and flabbergast.

"I mean, why are you doing all this for me?" Stiles couldn't help but smirk at the man (the end of his lips tickled by how it was a reaction of embarrassment for them both), feeling as if he finally had the upper hand but was also digging his own grave further. "Is this even a professional job?"

Then the taxi came to a harsh stop. Both passengers looked up and Stiles feared that they'd gone too far and were about to be thrown out, but then the driver told them that they were at their destination and what the cost for the journey was. Derek was quick to take a chunk of bills out of a suddenly appeared wallet and almost threw them at the driver before reaching over Stiles, opening the door, and pushing them out. Stiles' head began to wander about when his and also Derek's seat belts were unbuckled, but it all left his mind when the cab drove off and his sight was full of a thousand miles tall building. Its outside walls were almost completely made of windows, as far Stiles could see without straining his neck. 

A pressing hand on his back had his sneakers walking in the direction of the entry doors to the building. When inside, the hand went up to instead land on one of his shoulders, still pushing to have Stiles continue moving towards the reception. A woman sat there, who took one glance at Stiles before having her whole attention at Derek. "Good morning, Mr. Hale. May I help you and your acquaintance with anything?" she asked with a professional smile. Instead of answering her, Derek looked at Stiles and pointed a finger to the left, towards the elevators. "Go and fetch one to be ready for us, will you?" he said and gently pushed the younger man in the direction. Stiles gave him a glare for all the pushing around, but did as he was told.

When he was sure Stiles was out of earshot, Derek turned back to have his attention on the patiently waiting woman. "I need you to tell my exclusive receptionist that they're fired and have to leave their desk empty in less than three minutes," Derek said before walking away to join Stiles, the woman staring after him in shock for a second before quickly picking up her phone to dial his soon to be ex-receptionist's desk. 

When finding himself beside Stiles, no elevator doors had yet to open. "It's a busy building," he explained and Stiles huffed in answer, having his phone in his hands and keeping his eyes locked on it. "I can tell." Derek could tell that he was typing a message to someone, but he couldn't see what he was exactly writing or to who. The man seemed impatient by the way his eyebrows were tightly scrunched up and one of his feet were slightly tapping the floor even with all his attention on the phone. It had Derek on edge as well, not wanting to leave Stiles unimpressed or annoyed as it would maybe end with him not taking the job. 

The doors to the elevator at their farthest left eventually opened. Stiles hadn't come to be yet aware of it as he was still staring at his phone and the sounded typing overloaded the low sound of doors opening. Derek was just about to tell him, when someone stepped out of the elevator and caught the man's attention. It was a woman with long, straight brown hair, falling over her shoulders on both sides. She was holding a box full of petty things, like a cup with 'Don't Speak To Me if This Isn't Empty' engraved onto it and a bobblehead depicting Mickey Mouse. When turning her face in the direction of the pair, her eyes froze when landing on Derek. Black smudge were under her eyes, they and her philtrum as well being glossed. That was all Derek could take in before she ran by him as fast as she could in high heels. The sound of her shoes had Stiles finally looking up from his phone, but Derek was quick to push him towards the elevator to guide his attention in the other direction. 

"Looks like it heard our prayers," Derek quickly mumbled into one of Stiles' ears and gently grabbed the man's phone to put it back in one of his pockets. Stiles couldn't find it in himself to object when the breath through those words tickled down his collar, and had his attention on how much more crammed they'd soon be.

Derek pressed a button for one of the highest numbers when they got inside, having Stiles' breath hitch a little as the elevators seemed to be quiet slow and that meant they'd be in there for some time. Derek seemed to acknowledge that as well, as just when the doors closed he turned his body fully towards Stiles and cornered him into one of the back corners. "We're good with time here, so the elevators don't really annoy anyone," he said.

"I'm not good with time," Stiles quickly uttered and pressed himself up to the wall behind him as much as possible. Derek followed. "I think we can get things arranged to work that out," he almost hummed in answer and put one of his hands on the wall right beside Stiles' head, the sound vibrating through Stiles' closest ear. "Maybe move you closer, as you'll soon be able to afford a very expensive apartment."

"I'm still a student!"

"Then this job will be great on your résumé." Stiles' eyes went wide and looked down when he again felt a hand touching him, but this time sliding up his shirt. "Not that I think you'll leave any time soon." 

Stiles grabbed the moving arm, much to Derek's surprise, leaving it frozen in it's actions. "You never answered my question, Mr. Hale," Stiles said with some kind of strength as he was again looking up and even making eye contact, but Derek could feel the grip around his arm quivering.

"What question?"

"Is this a professional job?" 

Derek couldn't help but smile a little. "Stiles," he started with and raised his hand further over the soft skin of the younger man, having the grip falter a little and (but maybe it was just his imagination) those eyes, that he finally could see depicted a hazelnut colour, were shaking in probable fear, nerve and excitement, all at the same time, "why can't it be professional," He leaned in so that their lips were just a breath away from each other, "and in some criterium, unprofessional?" Derek then finally let himself press forward.

Stiles attempted a push against the other's chest, but his hands fell weak under that broad and muscular wall, and with one lick inside his mouth, they figuratively liquified. When Derek eventually pulled away to let Stiles breathe properly, a string of saliva still connected their lips. "I'm not gonna let go of you any time soon, Stiles. Being my receptionist or not," Derek said quiet loudly to over talk the other man's long and deep breathing, for lack of oxygen and anxiety. They came out more rapid after that declaration. 

"I, I'm Jewish!" Stiles uttered. Derek only let his hand under the shirt keep on wandering. "I don't care about religion."

"I'm Polish!"

"You take me for being xenophobic?" Stiles was close to scream yes to hit a nerve, but then he felt a tight squeeze around one of his nipples and Derek made the idea go out the window by saying, "Don't have me spank ya." 

"I, I," but Derek was tired of the excuses and shut him up with another kiss, although this time Stiles shook his head until he got free and ducked it down to escape another possible advance. 

"Why are you hiding?" The hand on Stiles' nipple started to twist and push, having gasps and small whimpers escaping Stiles' flushed mouth. "A very well-payed and easy job, all for some pleasurable company." 

Stiles shook his head hysterically like an anxious child. An anxious child who did not know if it really wanted to decline the offer. "No? Not even when I can taste the arouse of you?" A lick against his ear had Stiles trying to crouch down and hide himself as much as possible, but then a different hand grabbed his bottom. In reflex by shock, he rose high and Derek quickly worshiped his mouth again while squeezing and tickling his fragile body. 

The elevator came to a stop and both men went rigid. Derek quickly drew back from Stiles and fixed his shirt before turning towards the doors. Stiles was ready for them to walk out, but then two people entered and gave informal greetings to Derek, who just nodded back with a scowl. 

Stiles felt eyes on him and he didn't dare to look up to meet those curious stares. Derek was sure to introduce him, though. "This is my new secretary, Stiles Stilinski." 

One of the new passengers reached out and grabbed Stiles face with long, red nails to direct it upwards. The young man's vision got full of blonde hair and vicious eyes, and his ears ringed when the person cooed loudly in a smooth and feminine voice. "Well, ain't you the cutest thing I've ever had the pleasure to lay my eyes on," she said with a grin.

Derek swatted her hands away. "Erica," he said and gave her a stern look, but she just laughed. "Secretary! Really, Derek? This boy is too much of a doll to just be your secretary." 

"He's more, yes." Stiles adverted his eyes to the ground (he didn't hang his head again, as he was sure that Erica would choke him with those nails if he even tried to) and the blush from the not so long ago embracing didn't get time to vanish when Erica began to gush loudly, "As if we couldn't tell by the heat in here!" she said with a swing of her hips. 

"Quiet young," the person next to her stated, a black man with broad shoulders, a clean face and head. Derek only glared in answer to his comment, while Erica embraced him with a snicker. "I told you we should've bought him the book Lolita for Christmas!"

Derek hit the button for the upcoming floor and after another loud laugh from Erica, the doors opened. "Out!" he snarled and the two calmly, and quiet smugly by the smiles they gave each other, exited the elevator. "Don't ruin the duckling, Derbear!" Erica shouted just before the doors closed. 

Stiles missed their company right away when Derek turned around and gave him a look which spoke of things that would obviously go against Erica's wishes. In an attempt to flee from the leaning in lips and fingers reaching for his shirt, Stiles pressed himself up to the wall as much as possible and shouted, "I'm a virgin!"

Derek stopped moving right away. 

"Th, that's right! I have no experience at all! I'll be a mess and utter embarrassment," Stiles attempted a laugh after the last comment, but it came out more alike a cough. "I, I'll leave you unsatisfied, I promise," farther he didn't get, as Derek connected their lips and struggled with getting a hand down the back of Stiles' pants. When the tightness of the belt gave in, Derek quickly got inside Stiles' underwear as well and between his butt cheeks. Pain went through Stiles when a finger entered him and in reflex, he pulled away from the kiss and whined while tears prickled his eyes. "Ow, stop!" He tried to get the hand out of his pants with his own ones, but Derek was much stronger and easily continued moving his finger inside of him. 

Knowing he wasn't getting anywhere, Stiles instead attacked Derek's face and tried to knee him in the crotch. Derek however caught his leg between his shins and the weak fists and palms didn't bother him. The struggle actually aroused him even more. He leaned up to one of Stiles' ears. "Are you an idiot?" he asked with a nip on the earlobe. 

"Please stop!"

"It's shocking, yes...But not in a bad way." Derek entered a second finger into Stiles. The younger man bit down on Derek's shoulder as hard as he could, which didn't do anything for Derek. Nothing negative, at least.

Stiles was flushed with emotions and color. He felt physical pain, but Derek's approval to everything he's described himself as made his stomach twist in a foreign way.

Then the elevator came to another stop. Stiles at first thought there was new passengers to enter, but then Derek whispered into his ear, "Follow me," and quickly buttoned his pants up before dragging him out from the tiny space. 


	2. Give me all your love now. Cause for all we know, we might be dead by tomorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe it or not, but one of the hardest things with this chapter was finding out what you call a laundry business which cleans clothes for you. Like, I think I've only seen one in my country. And laundromats are also quite rare. 
> 
> No, but it was also hard to write an ending for this chapter and have it seemingly obvious that this story is continuing. 
> 
> \---CHAPTER SPOILERS---
> 
> Also, is it just me who likes sex scenes where the description is, how should I say, vanilla even if what's going on isn't?
> 
> \---END---
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like this chapter. Sometimes I had a really hard time with the grammar, so please correct if I'm ever wrong! 
> 
> Also, I'm pissed at myself for not giving this story the title; "You reposted on the wrong pavement".

The walk to Derek's office felt tedious for both men. Derek wanted to embrace Stiles again as quick as possible, and finally get the chance to take his time with the boy. Stiles, on the other hand, didn't know if he really wanted to be in another empty room with Derek. But the stares he was getting from other workers had him also feeling unsafe out in the halls. After what he'd gone through to that point of the day, paranoia was quick to ambush him with the assurance that these people would be keen to humiliate and kill if they found an opening, just to get in Stiles' position. So when they eventually got to Derek's office door, Stiles didn't hesitate when it was gestured for him to enter first. When inside, however, he got as far from the other man as possible. It was easier than in the elevator, as the office was big enough to store a meter long desk, a four cushion couch plus a coffee table, and still have enough room for approximately five people to walk leisurely around. 

Stiles stumbled over himself when he caught sight of the view outside the wide window behind Derek's desk, sighting so far as to the sea around New York City. He could even see the Statue of Liberty, the morning sun having Stiles finding her more beautiful than he'd ever thought before, the torch in her left hand almost looking alive because of the strong sunlight poking out from behind it.

Window blinds falling and going shut over the glass had Stiles' attention back in the room, finding Derek standing by the window as well, but on the other side of the desk. It was still too close for Stiles' comfort, especially with how the man was staring at him; in hunger. Stiles then realised that this was the only window in the whole office, leaving the halls and Derek's coworkers completely out of his life (for the moment, at least). That did calm the younger man down. 

Only for a second, though, as Derek's slow approach had him realise how there no longer was any threat of disturbance. And that brought him back to anxious confusion for how he actually felt about the whole ordeal, as his heart was beating quickly and his stomach was turning - but he didn't move away from Derek's hands when they reached out for his waist. Nor did he do anything more than gasp when Derek kissed his neck.

When overworked hands began to wander down to his pants, however, Stiles quickly tossed and turned. Derek, not being ready for that reaction after the seeming willingness, released him of utter surprise. "I told you to stop before!" Stiles was close to shout it at the other man of utter rage and embarrassment, but he was still in enough state of mind to remember his fear of what was outside the office. His only escape goat had him worried, and that had him back to his skittish behaviour. "Why didn't you?" he continued on, but in a hushed and stammering voice. 

Derek huffed, "Stop fooling yourself, Stiles." He again touched the younger man, but this time he was more bold with his intentions and grabbed his crotch. Stiles flinched, but Derek's following words had him stay put, "You can't fool me. I know what you want and need. And you know too," Derek squeezed and Stiles' legs shook, "you just won't listen." He then locked their lips together and all Stiles could register was the following sound of things crashing onto the floor, before finding himself pushed down to lay over Derek's nude desk on his back. And with his eyes directed towards the window blind's, straining to see something through the small gaps between the slats and catching a small sight of sunlight again - Stiles relaxed.

 

Derek tried to sooth Stiles with butterfly kisses and kitty licks, but the pain was still there and thus, Stiles' shoes and naked legs (till the ankles) didn't stop from burying themselves into the expensive garment of Derek's pants. Stiles' arms were thrown over his own head, his hands holding onto the desk so painfully hard that his fingertips were red from the frantic pumping of blood in them. He didn't know if he was grabbing onto the desk in attempt to steady the furniture and have it stop creaking so loudly, or to hinder the feeling of being so close to falling off it whenever Derek made another punctuation with his hips. Either way, he failed. 

During such animalistic sex (Strong hands grabbing tightly onto Stiles' skinny hips and how Derek hadn't stopped the loosing of his belt even when Stiles had stuttered unsureness when it was revealed that Derek didn't have any condoms.), the older man still took the time to whisper unnecessary things about Stiles into one of his ears. It was as if he knew from the gecko that Stiles' hadn't been called such things (cute, gorgeous, sexy) in a long time or so assuringly, and would therefor squeeze his legs even tighter around the other man in somewhat desperation to hear it more, but also to have Derek instead groan and stop putting foreign feelings in Stiles head.

Nonetheless, Stiles would come to lose the mindset that could listen to those words. He would instead find himself only able to hear the quick and heavy in- and outtakes of breath and occasional moan from Derek, while all he could feel was a burn which took form in different ways. A burn on one of his cheeks from when Derek's stubble had rubbed into it, a burn in his fragile skin from being grabbed onto so much, and a rough burn where the two were connected. But the most brutal burn took place between his two shivering legs, which one of Derek's hands were holding onto in a hard grip. "Don't you dare to," was all Derek had said before grabbing it, completely ignoring Stiles' whimpers.

Derek lifted his head to hover over Stiles' face, which Stiles took as a chance to inspect the other man's feelings about the ordeal. With several hair strings fallen over his crunched up and sweaty forehead, his eyes being half open but still strongly dominating when looking into Stiles', and his lips red from all the bites, sucks and kisses, Stiles came to the shocking conclusion that Derek was as wrecked as himself. 

It didn't make sense to him, that a man with so much power and money could so easily fall because of attraction. That he found Stiles noble enough to be that person just made it more of a headache for him. "Mr. Hale," he was stupid enough to start his question that would probably sooth the pain in his head, but Derek quickly silenced him with his sharp teeth biting onto Stiles' lips in a probable attempt of a hungry kiss after being so formally referred to by a gasping, naked and wrecked teen on his desk. And with that much broader and taller body pressing Stiles even harder down onto the desk and feeling those expensive clothes repeatedly rubbing themselves over his own naked body - how could Stiles not be quiet for once in his life, and let one of his hands let go of the desk to instead slowly and in quivers go down his body.

Derek's eyes followed the movement when the hand got close to Stiles' cock, but when it continued on further and instead put Derek's (half gone inside) cock between its thumb and index finger, the man looked into Stiles' eyes. Derek found them desperate and tearful. That was enough for him to slowly exit Stiles, having the boy gasping into his mouth, and then quickly inserting himself again. 

Meanwhile, Stiles, pushing away the feeling of embarrassment and pain, let himself stare with squinted and glazed eyes as Derek disappeared into him, only to exit a second later and do it all over again. His thumb and index finger shook not only from the harsh thrusts, but also from the overstimulation that Stiles felt from seeing and feeling it all at the same time. And with his eyes still locked on him and feeling the rise of pleasure in his abonnement, Derek released Stiles' cock and did a few last thrusts before he came to a staggering stop and let out a loud and long groan. 

As he filled the boy's insides, Stiles dirtied both their chests and his whole body quaked as it held tightly onto Derek. It then slowly slumped down onto the desk and his shoes could finally touch the floor again. For him, however, it felt like he was touching the earth. All those feelings disappeared, however, when he passed out.

 

When Stiles woke up, the blinds were up. 

He tried to rise up to a sitting position, only to crumble down to his previous spot. When falling onto soft fabric, Stiles comprehended that he no longer was splayed out over Derek's desk. He was instead lying on the man's sofa while the desk was again obtained by the objects which had previously been thrown away for Stiles. And there sat Derek, looking through paperwork on the desk as if it didn't have deep fingernail marks or several broken office equipments on it. 

Stiles didn't know what to say, or if he should even say anything. How and why would he start a conversation with the man that scared him so easily, but whom also made him so ecstatic for more? 

At last, Stiles took the courage to open his mouth, but he still hadn't prepared for anything to say. So all that came out was, "I'm," but that was enough to catch Derek's attention, his sharp eyes quickly looking at him. Stiles swallowed in nervousness and felt how dry his throat was, which brought him to ask, "Water?"

Derek rose from his seat and went over to a cupboard by the window's left side, bringing whiskey out from it. Stiles' eyes widened as Derek came over to him with two shots and reached one out towards him. "Water isn't something easily found in this building," Derek told him nonchalantly. "Alcohol helps with the stress that comes with our jobs."

"So I'll go from biting nails to becoming an alcoholic?" Stiles couldn't help himself say, even as he took the glass. Derek rolled his eyes before easily emptying his shot into his mouth. He then made a move as if he was going to sit on Stiles' legs, but the younger man quickly scouted in on himself (even how much it hurt) so that Derek could instead sit on the cushion. "Bring water with you if it's that easy for you to become an addict," he mumbled as he leisurely put a hand on one of Stiles' knees, which brought the other to a realisation. 

He was only wearing his shirt. 

Stiles quickly shut his legs as tightly as he could and dragged his shirt down as far as possible. "Where's my pants?" he felt stupid for how weakly he expressed himself when his insides were burning from embarrassment and anger. He let those feelings instead be expressed in his letting go of his glass of whiskey onto the floor. The glass didn't break, but the liquid went everywhere.

Derek only chuckled before letting go of his own but empty glass. "You just realised? Well, I cleaned you out after you fell asleep, but some cum did run down your legs and," Stiles harshly pushed his palms up against Derek's mouth to silence him, thus sparing his face from getting any redder. "Will you just get them for me!?" 

"I sent them and your underwear to a service wash. They'll be done soon." Stiles pushed Derek's hand away from his knee so that he could put his face there and groan loudly. "You're the worst!"

"You'd rather have went home in dirty pants and underwear which smell of sex?" 

"No, but," Stiles was interrupted by a kiss. Derek inserted his tongue into the others' mouth, and he grabbed Stiles' shoulders to keep him from escaping the kiss, though Stiles never tried. Instead he let himself lay back and had his fingers wander over Derek's chest, feeling the layers of clothes over his muscles.

Eventually, Derek pulled away with a nip on Stiles' bottom lip. "That would've been hot. I'll remember that for tomorrow," Derek said before getting up from the couch. Stiles' eyes followed him as he breathed slowly but deeply. "Now, let me introduce you to your workspace."


End file.
